


start how you mean to go on (and we won't have any trouble)

by AcreCalm



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Natasha is conniving, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Steve Rogers is only kind of a virgin, Steve doesn't care, could their relationship have begun any other way?, with Natasha involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcreCalm/pseuds/AcreCalm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"New century, Cap. You don't have to defend a girl's honor from your average drunk anymore."</p><p>Steve let out a self-conscious huff of laughter at Natasha's droll comment, and there was a wry twist to her lips, even if her gaze was fixed forward when he glanced across the small space between them.</p><p> </p><p>"Believe me, ma'am, your honor was the furthest thing from my mind."</p>
            </blockquote>





	start how you mean to go on (and we won't have any trouble)

**Author's Note:**

> Gyuh, this has been sitting in my drafts folder for months. Decided to finally square up and post it despite not knowing how I feel about a lot of it.  
> Oh well.  
> Do tell if you can pinpoint something that you think could have/should have been done better, coz I can't put my finger on it.  
> Thanks!

"New century, Cap. You don't have to defend a girl's honor from your average drunk anymore."

Steve let out a self-conscious huff of laughter at Natasha's droll comment, and there was a wry twist to her lips, even if her gaze was fixed forward when he glanced across the small space between them.

He wasn't exactly sure what the men who had been leaning in a little too close had been saying to her, but he'd known he didn't like it. Luckily it didn't take much more than a firm warning and a glare to warn them off.

Steve licked his lips, and they remained parted to give the words space to fully form on his tongue for a moment before he spoke, afraid that they would betray too much if he replied too quickly.

"Believe me, ma'am, your honor was the furthest thing from my mind."

It wasn't only what he said, but the /way/ he said it -- an apologetic undercurrent of private humor -- that had her angling towards him, one eyebrow cocked, intrigued and encouraging explanation.

Steve just shook his head, his own reserved smile now somewhat sheepish.

"Well if you weren't rescuing the damsel in distress, what's the motivation?" She prompted, raising her glass to her lips.

Steve wasn't sure why he even went out with the team when they went drinking, but perhaps the atmosphere acted as liquid courage as much as the alcohol itself. Either way, his lips were a lot looser than normal.

"It, uh, it... would seem I lean towards being territorial."

He imagined he could almost hear the series of questions that must be running through her mind; _Territorial over me?_ and then _Why?_ , and maybe something derogatory. Likely in several different languages.

She didn't voice any of them.

Instead, once she had very leisurely drained her glass and set it on the bar without so much of a clink of the glass on the wood, she said something very different.

"You've hardly staked a claim on me, Cap."

Her eyes, half-lidded in comfortable nonchalance, had the glint of a distinct challenge from under the sweep of her eyelashes.

He had blushed at the beginning of their exchange, and his flush only bloomed further; a florid heat burning up into his ears and down his neck.

It was not bashful discomfort, however, that colored his skin in feverish red.

Natasha's attention seemed to drag over to him from where she had been staring ahead once again, eyes bright and attentive despite her otherwise indifferent demeanor.

Steve swallowed, trying to wet his mouth, now become dry, under the way she was looking at him.

A trickle of sweat slid down the back of his neck.

"Is that an invitation?" His voice was hoarse at the edges. His fingers twitched once in his lap.

Natasha had not looked away from him.

The shade of an approving smile was the only deviation from her careful impassiveness, aside from the alert interest in her eyes.

"Maybe you should find out."

She rose from her seat at the bar with the smooth, practiced elegance that seemed inevitable, whenever she moved.

Feeling slow and stupid, Steve wondered in an abstracted sort of way if she cultivated it, or Natasha had always moved with the hypnotic beauty of deadly grace.

He couldn't decide which of the two possibilities sounds more likely.

Either way, the hypnotism apparently works because he finds himself dropping bills on the bar and trotting after her near immediately.

If Natasha had wanted to get rid of him, there would be no way he would have been able to find her. As it was, with the way she was sauntering down the hall towards the ladies room with a very deliberate swing to her hips, Steve was fairly certain he'd guessed right.

Just before she turned into the door, Steve caught up.

He put his hand on the wall in front of her, just to the side of the doorjamb and effectively barring her path.

Steve had to fight hard to keep his breath from becoming labored as she turned to look at him.

"Was that an invitation?" Somehow he made the words firm and steady, despite the hair standing up on the back of his neck at the twist of her lips, the approving sweep of her gaze up and down his body. There might have been a little bit of Captain Rogers in the question that really made it more of a demand, but it was soft, voice lowered.

Her lips curl up further.

"It might have been."

He grinned at her, a brilliant display of teeth that could have been a smile from Captain America -- except Captain America had never looked half so roguish.

Natasha slipped from underneath his arm to pull the door of the ladies room open, and locked it behind him when he shouldered in sideways after her.

Her chin was tilted up in proud defiance, and Steve could see himself in the mirror behind her, still ever-so-slightly questioning and posture tight.

Natasha wasn't going to do anything, but when he took the step forward that put him in her personal space, she didn't move away. His hand came up to her neck, and she let him pull her in as he dipped down.

The moment his lips touched hers, soft and tentative as suited a first kiss, Natasha exploded into responsiveness; her hands pulled at the lapels of his jacket and she arched into his touch, tongue sliding over his lips.

Steve was still technically a virgin -- though it had been hard to resist beautiful showgirls who found him extremely desirable. Well, it amazed him enough that _anyone_ found him desirable that his self-control was not as firm as it probably should have been.

Either way, he'd fooled around a bit before, after a show or just about to go onstage. He liked to think he'd been fairly good. Not bad, at the very least.

Natasha gasped a small noise into his mouth when she hit the counter of the sink, and then another when his hands found her hips and easily pushed her to be sitting on the edge of it.

Steve gave her one last kiss -- well, among the last ones.... Hell, he could probably kiss her forever, if he was honest with himself and--Steve forced himself to give her a final kiss and then pulled away. She was deliciously disheveled, looking not at all disappointed.

He locked eyes with her and sank to his knees. There was a slight flicker in her features that had Steve wondering if he'd managed the near impossible by doing something she didn't expect.

Hopefully it wouldn't be the last time.

He'd missed this, honestly. The smooth skin of inner thighs, watching their breath hitch... He gave her another small, cheeky grin, and nipped down from one knee.

Natasha was better trained than to cry out, but he heard the stifled noise regardless. And he definitely felt how her hands threaded through his hair before pulling tight, tugging him closer. As if he needed any more incentive.

But the sparks of pain had him growl against her, and her breath caught, muscles twitched.

Apparently he hadn't forgotten how, and was more than just not-bad.

And maybe this was supposed to be him 'claiming' her or some such thing, but it might as well have been the other way round. Her hands in his hair, on his shoulder; the musky-sweet smell of her and corresponding taste... It was bewitching.

The leather of her jacket squeaked against the mirror, and the empty room made even her minor panting seem loud.

His knuckles brushed slow and soothing up and down her thigh as he felt her tense, then shudder. The new slick warmth he lapped up in one thorough lick before resting, nose in her curls and mouth on her folds, feeling her quiver against him before the spasms stopped and he sat back on his heels, wiped over his mouth and chin before rising.

She grabbed him by the ears, and he barely had time to react before her tongue was in his mouth, as though eager to find out what she tasted like on him. She was apparently satisfied by what she found, and her full smile was pleasantly loopy, eyes half lidded when she pulled away to look at him.

Her fingers traced over his jaw, and Steve took her thumb in his mouth when it passed over his lips, kissing it before letting it go and smiling at her in return somewhat shyly, looking up from under his lashes.

Her smile grew wider, and she spoke in a lazy, languid way.

"I don't mind if you're territorial. Go ahead and remind people whose I am."

She leaned in close, fingers curling one by one around the back of his neck, pulling him down until her lips were barely brushing against his ear as she whispered into it, cloying.

" _Just as long as you remind me, too._ "


End file.
